


Beating Heart Baby

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Drugs, Gay, M/M, Sad, and romantic at the same time though, never gonna continue this, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brendon likes drugs.Dallon likes Brendon.—Discontinued.Bad writing, but I don't see the point in unpublishing it. Wrote it back in 2017 but didn't publish until later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never finished this, it's old, and I don't like it, but enjoy I guess.

"Come on, Bee," Dallon sighed, lifting the boy into his arms bridal style.  Bee was wearing a dark hoodie he'd stolen from Dallon and a pair of leggings that were making Dallon question his sexuality just a little bit more than he already was. Brendon just stared at him blankly, blinking.  The taller of the two wasn't sure what he'd taken this time, just that whatever it was, it was making Brendon space out a lot more than usual.  

"Hey, buddy, you okay?"  He unlooped an arm from around Brendon's soft torso for a moment, letting his chest support him as he waved a single hand in front of his best friend's face. A single street lamp shone upon them from the deserted road, heavily trafficked with parked cars, but gone of humans. A yellow ghostly glow cast over their bodies.

This wasn't the first time Dallon had taken care of Brendon after he got high, or drank until he blacked out.  Oh, no, this was far from the first time.  Drugs were a reoccurring issue with the younger boy.

Weed, cocaine, acid, it didn't matter to him. Whatever turned his skin numb and messed with his mind, he was up for. White pressed powder, pink and blue pills, crudely rolled joints; Brendon had done it all.

Brendon didn't like that Dallon always felt the need to look at for him, he thought he was fine on his own, but in reality, it was probably a good thing.  One time Dallon found Brendon standing at the edge of a bridge, staring emotionlessly into the abyss.  He, of course, was high, but that didn't change the fact that he was going to jump into a fucking river.   

The same river where his-

The same river where the incident had happened years earlier.

Dallon cried when he discovered his best friend on the brink of letting himself go, and had pulled the shorter boy away from the edge and close to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around him.  Where he could protect him, keep him safe in case anything like that ever happened again.  The thought of losing Brendon scared him.

It almost happened before and it could happen again.

He really should stop thinking of it.

Brendon mumbled something incoherently, and Dallon squinted, unsure of what he said.  He flinched at the sound of a bird leaving a tree, it's wings flapping noisily in the night. Music was blaring inside the brightly lit house, and they could feel the bass still, even with standing outside. 

"Can you repeat that, sweetheart?"  He prodded gently, replacing his hand under the teenager's back, pushing the the flimsy gate open with his hip like a busy mom tending to several children would .  

"G, I think,"  he shifted so that his face was squished against Dallon's shirt clad chest versus facing away from it.  The lights were starting to hurt his eyes.

"G?"  Dallon asked curiously, biting his lip. Not sexually, don't even go there. He hadn't heard of that one before, or if he had, he didn't remember.  He hoped it wasn't addictive. 

Fingers were also crossed that it wouldn't mess with Brendon's meds, not that he willingly took them anyways. Dallon usually had to force him to swallow the little white pills, promising him this or that, and generally being unable to follow through. He sighed.

They reached the beat up car quickly, and he said something about having to set Brendon down for a moment, letting the brunette lean against him as he fished his tangle of keys out from his lint clad pocket, unlocking the car.

"Liquid X, I think that's the street name," Brendon's words were slurred together slightly, him being very out of it at the moment.  "But 'tis okay, Bren is fine-e-e-e, jus' a bit tired, tha's all."  He somehow managed to get into the fabricated passenger seat, a small 'oomf' leaving his mouth as the door was being shut for him by his tall best friend who cared almost too much.

Dallon's eyes widened a bit at the other name that was slightly more familiar in his drug dictionary, and he tugged at his black bomber jacket, cocking his head to the side.  "Isn't that a date rape drug?  Did someone give you that without asking?  What if it's laced with som-"

You couldn't blame the boy for jumping the worst conclusions.

"Relax Dal, Bren is okay,"  Brendon said confidently, talking in third person for some reason.  "Brenny wanted to take it, he jus' didn't know it'd make him so-o-o-o tired."  He giggles a bit, head lolling to rest on Dallon's remarkably higher shoulder; he'd got in right after Brendon.

He just shook his head in exasperation, sometimes Brendon was a bit too reckless for his liking.

"Brenny should try to go to sleep on the drive home so that Dallon doesn't have to worry about him."

"Bren isn't tired, Bren wants to talk."

He sighed yet again, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, lips chapped.  That reminded him, he needed to pick up chapstick soon, or steal some of Brendon's. He waved that thoughts away and focused on the situation at hand, figuring it was more important at the moment.

Hopefully, he reckoned, if he could wear Brendon out in the next five minutes, he'll fall asleep and Dallon can have some peace and quiet.  "What does Bren want to talk about?" he asked to keep the younger boy amused, a small smile tracing his pink lips. 

"Bren wants to talk about politics," The shorter announces, grinning smugly, his arms crossed. It appeared he thought he was being clever, but Dallon was just suppressing the urge to laugh.

"Why the fuck does Brendon want to talk about politics?"

"'Cause Brendon's smarter than Dally and needs to prove his place."

That makes Dallon snort, and not cocaine.  "Since when does he need to 'prove his place'?"

"Shut up."

This continues for another solid twenty five minutes-excluding the time Brendon shrieked and Dallon almost rammed the car into a tree just because Brendon thought he saw a cat, which had turned out to be a small shrub-before they'd arrived at Brendon's front door, his arms slung around Dallon's shoulder.  

"Gonna see my mama?"  The drugged one smiles stupidly up at Dallon, who feels bad saying no, but does it anyways, not wanting to lie.  That would just make things worse.  "Mama, we all go to hell,"  Brendon mutters under his breath before turning to Dallon.  "Bed?"

"For you, yes."  It was one of those times where Dallon just needed his friend to sleep it off and hopefully the drug would start to wear off by morning.  "I'll sleep on the floor," he said loudly over Brendon's slight protesting, the complaints quickly dying off after Dallon's offer to stay the night with him.  It made Brendon feel better, and more in control of his thoughts and actions as whatever illegal subtance he had consumed that night's effects began to lessen.

Dallon made him feel safe.

"Sleep in the bed with Brenny, he doesn't mind," he offered, a lopsided grin apparent on his face.  Dallon smiled but declined the offer, pretty sure he'd regret the decision in the morning.  Brendon, however, was having none of that. 

Not wanting a fit thrown, Dallon gave in.

The dark haired boy latched onto Dallon's arm, yanking him towards his small bedroom and taking off his own black zip up hoodie before pulling Dallon's bomber jacket with the patches decorating it off his shoulders in one swift motion, abandoning both on the floor.  "Take off your shoes," he commanded, smirking as Dallon complied, taking ahold of his arm again and pulling him onto the bed, the two collapsing into a heap, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol thick in the air. 

Burnt out stubs of nicotine littered the hardwood floor of Brendon's messy room, accompanied by random pieces of trash and abandoned art projects. A half empty vodka bottle was askew in the corner next to his nightstand, threatening to spill over the edge if bumped. 

Ripped posters were plastered across the walls, paper covering every blank spot they could find. Huge prints of Muse and Green Day along with other bands, scribbles and well done drawings on pieces of printer paper and sticky notes were all offenders. 

The black and white bedspread was clean however, and smelt like Brendon, a comforting scent to Dallon's senses. 

After having surveyed the room for any new additions, whether it be drawings or drugs, he wrapped an arm around Brendon and scooted upwards a bit, relishing the way Brendon curled into him as he pulled up the covers, stifling a yawn.  Parties were tiring.

"Goodnight, Brenny,"  He pressed a platonic kiss to the side of Brendon's head, where the hair was short and shaved, corners of his mouth turning up softly.

"Night night, Dal."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i hate this

Brendon was unashamedly homosexual.

He and Dallon has decided to mess around at the local mall, trying on stupid shit in the dressing rooms and looking at women's clothing that Brendon would actually buy and wear on occasion.

Fuck it, if he wanted to wear a chiffon skirt and high heels, he'd wear a chiffon skirt and high heels. If he wanted to brush black mascara on his eyelashes to enhance them, he wasn't going to let anyone stop him. He could do whatever he wanted to do, it was his own body. He wasn't dressing for other people, he was dressing for himself, and he felt very strongly of this.

That's why he was so pissed off when he noticed two boys pushing around a kid a couple years younger than him who was wearing what people typically considered feminine clothes at the mall, which Brendon found ridiculous because clothes has no gender. The boy was being cornered against two tile walls in the large shopping complex Dallon and Brendon were wandering, a generally terrified look on his face.  Brendon's eyes darkened and he opened his mouth as they neared, slowing to a stop in front of the scene.

However, Dallon slapped a hand over the short boy's loud mouth before he could interrupt the teasing. "What are you doing?" He harshly whispered, giving Brendon a questioning look. He wasn't for the bullying either, but last time Brendon intervened with a wrong doing, it resulted in a fight and a bruised black eye.  It wasn't pretty.

"Teaching those jackasses a lesson," Brendon smiled brightly in return, straight teeth shining in the fake fluorescent lighting before turning to the two guys. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The blonde one whipped around, his fearful look transitioning to a sneer when he realized it wasn't mall sercurity or an adult. In his eyes, it was just the dumb kid who'd dropped out his junior year of high school. No biggie. "Fuck off, dropout," he fired, rolling his eyes. 

Brendon's eyes flashed with a mix of emotions and he took a step forward, fists clenched at his side as Dallon watched on, worried. "What'd you just say to me, bitch?"

At this, the other dude turned around as well, his attention leaving the freshman they were tormenting, a boy wearing a zip up hoodie and a dark skater skirt. 

The boy made brief eye contact with Brendon who smiled softly in return, mouthing 'leave.' He didn't want the kid getting hurt.  The ninth grader used the argument between the upperclassmen to make his clean getaway, slipping out from behind the obnoxious pair and dashing off, shoes squeaking the tiniest bit on the freshly cleaned tiled floors.

"Nothing that wasn't true," The offender scoffed, an annoying grin plastered upon his stupid face. "You did drop out after all. Not smart enough for school."

As if that needed enough emphasization.

"I'll break your fucking face." Brendon stated coldly, staring at him with a serious expression while his buddy shifted uncomfortably behind him.  A single droplet of sweat has formed on the second boy's forehead, and Brendon mentally smirked, not daring voice it aloud.

"I'd like to see you try."

Was that a challenge?  Brendon Boyd Urie was not one to back down from challenges.  "Yeah?"

"Ye-" He was cut off by Brendon's pale fist connecting with his already crooked nose, and he stumbled backwards a few steps as his hands flew to his injured face, trying to stop the bleeding. His eyes were furious. "You motherfucking piece of shit, I'll fucking ruin you, fucking druggie," he would've continued if it weren't from the stream of thick red liquid leaving his nose at a steady rate, getting in his mouth and staining his pearl teeth a deep crimson.  He bet the taste of iron was awful.

"C'mon Logan, let's go, he's not worth our time," the second one said in a clearly desperate voice, not wanting to get punched himself. Their small dispute had attracted a few bystander's attention, and one had gotten up and started towards the information booth.

Brendon turned to look at Dallon triumphantly after both vermin had fled, who was shaking his head in defeat. There was no stopping the ball of energy when he wanted to do something, and the eldest had been forced to learn this years ago. "Did you see that? I totally could've kicked their asses, I'm such a badass," he boasted, way too happy with himself for defending their victim.

It was kinda cute in Dallon's opinion.

"Shit." Brendon was staring wide eyed over Dallon's shoulder, a mix of excitement and fear in his chocolate pupils.

Dallon spun around as well only to find himself face to face with a very mean looking mall security guard, whose features conveyed no emotions other than anger.  The authority adjusted his crisp navy shirt and shiny golden badge before clearing his throat, thick eyebrows furrowed together.

"Which one of you punks punched a kid?" The buff man asked in a deep , gravelly voice, the expression on his shiny face letting them know they didn't have much time to answer. 

Dallon obviously was too soft to do anything but fess up.

Brendon, on the other hand . . . he caught Dallon's ocean blue eyes in his coffee brown ones, his rough hand holding onto Dallon's large one tightly, intertwining their fingers subtly.  Dark eyes switching between the guard's ugly swamp colored eyes and Dallon's beautiful ones, he mouthed the numbers 'three, two, one,' counting down to something. 

"Run!" Brendon screamed out, pulling Dallon behind him as they raced through the mall, away from the heavyset security guard.  Dallon quickly caught up to the short brunette with his long ass spider legs, as Brendon liked to call them. They glanced behind them, the guard was no where in sight so they allowed themselves to slow down to a easy jog. 

"We've gotta go, Bren," Dallon wheezed, not letting go off the younger's hand, leading him towards the nearest exit. He hadn't ran in a while, my God.  As terrifying as that entire escape was, the simmering adrenaline in his blood and charming smile on his best friend's face made it all worth it. 

"You dumbass!" Dallon burst into uncontrollable laughter as soon as they reached his ugly car, clambering into the front seat and putting the key in to start the engine.

Brendon was laughing silently, taking sharp breathes so it just kind of looked like he was dying, or choking on air. "Oh my god, D," he managed to get out, plopping down in the passenger seat and leaning his head back, the exhilaration still running through his body. It was almost better than a high, the same euphoric feeling roaming his veins.  "God, I love you."

Dallon just smiled fondly as the battered vehicle pulled out of the crowded mall parking lot, ruffling Brendon's dark fluffy hair and chuckling when said boy swats his hand away, squawking.

 

-

 

The two were in Dallon's mediocre bedroom, the tall one sitting criss cross on the bed while Brendon spun himself in the comfortable office chair stolen from his friend's neatly kept desk, weirdly amused by that.

It was almost the end of August and Dallon would have to go back to dreaded school soon, ready to complete his senior year of high school and receive his diploma.  Brendon would've been a senior too, but he dropped out midway through his junior year last year, claiming he wasn't smart enough to graduate anyways.

Dallon had called bullshit, it wasn't that Brendon wasn't intelligent enough, he most definitely was. It was that he didn't try, not even showing up to class over half of the time. It was little (or big) things like that that ended up causing him trouble. He tried to change Brendon's mind but had no luck.

"So school starts in four days," Dallon threw the topic out there, he didn't know what Brendon was gonna do without him. Probably something stupid. Dallon was the responsible one out of the pair and they both knew it.  Without Dallon, Brendon would probably be working at a strip club tripping on acid all the time, or dead in a ditch, or something equally as horrible.

Brendon just loudly groaned at the obvious statement, hitting his head purposely on the foam backing of the spinny chair. He'd been trying to avoid the unavoidable.  "Why can't summer last forever? I'm going to be lonely," he complained, draping a skinny jean clad leg over the wobbly armrest.

Dallon had offered to drop out once, right before the much hated finals, the stress getting to his head, but Brendon refused to let him, saying Dallon was actually going somewhere good in life, unlike himself. It hurt Dallon to see how little faith Brendon had in himself, but it wasn't worth arguing it at that point.  Also, the fact that Brendon believed in Dallon so much had boosted his low esteem to a higher self confidence level.

"You know," Dallon mumbled, scooting slightly, moving off of the worn stuffed animal he was sitting on. He forgot he even had that old thing still.  

His bed was unmade and messy, unlike the rest of his tidy room.  The faded aqua blue bed comforter had almost completely gone food stains on it from the time he and Brendon spilt an entire cheese pizza on the fabric because they opened the box upside down, getting grease everywhere.  It was hilarious at the time, they'd both giggled like sixth grade girls until their stomachs hurt.  Black Sharpie designs decorated the entire left side from Brendon's artist days in middle school when he'd share his work, little drawings of stars and spaceships and cats.  It was odd and mismatched and smelt sorta like pizza and too much deodorant, but it was home. 

"Yeah?" Brendon tilted his head, waiting patiently for his friend to finish his sentence. 

He tapped his fingers anxiously against the seat, he'd been sitting still for far too long. His ADHD got the better of him and he began twirling the chair again, needing some sort of movement to keep himself from going crazy.

"You could come back to school.". It wasn't unrealistic or impossible.  Not at all.

"No."

"You'd have to retake your junior year, but that's okay."  He would do good, Dallon had a good feeling about it.  Brendon is a smart kid.  If Dallon could keep him on track . . .

"I'm too dumb for that."

"Lies. You could do it Brendon, you're smart."

Brendon crinkled up his nose, hating the fact that he was actually considering this as an option. He didn't drop out for absolutely no reason, after all.  "I don't know, Dallon. School fucking sucks."

That was a true statement.

"You'd get to see me everyday."  Those two were basically attached at the hip, and school last year (until Brendon dropped out) wasn't any different.  People thought they were dating for the longest time, before they clarified 'no, we're just best friends who are very touchy feel-y, and clingy as fuck.' 

"I'll think about it."

Dallon counted this as a personal win.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is trash fuck i hate it

The dark haired boy felt out of place already as his tall best friend dragged him inside the brick prison by the hand.  What a wonderful way to die.

He didn't want to be here, that was very apparent to anyone watching, and he definitely didn't want to be the kid a year older than everyone else in his grade, since he was repeating eleventh grade.

"Weekes, I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he shook his head in disbelief, staring at the all too familiar school in dismay.  The brown bushes and semi-budding flowers planted around the rugged perimeter were meant to make the building's environment seem a little more friendly, but no one ever tended to them, not even the lazy gardener, so they were all dead or in the process of dying, sort of ruining the supposedly positive effect.

What a drag.

"I can't believe you said yes," an obnoxiously wide smile was plastered upon Dallon's face as he looked down at Brendon, who was a whole whopping six inches shorter than him.  To anyone else it'd sound like he asked Brendon out or some shit like that, when it was actually quite the opposite.  Unless Brendon had wanted to go on a date at the school, it was definitely nothing of those sorts.

"Anyways," he continued in a strangely cheerful tone for 7:46 AM on a Monday morning, "You're gonna do great.  If anyone gives you a problem, tell me and I'll deal with 'em."

Dallon just didn't want anyone bullying his Brenny.  He'd known the kid since seventh grade, and if he was in a vulnerable state the slightest thing could push him off the edge.  He'd learned this the hard way.  Guilt still looked up in his chest from that instance.

Brendon stifled his muffled laughter.  "You?  Dealing with someone?  That's a funny story, you're far too soft for that stuff.  Leave the fighting up to me, it's one of the few things I'm actually good at."

He said that last part proudly, like it was a good thing, which, in his mind, it probably was.  Fights were something Dallon hated and Brendon knew that, so he tried to limit them to when they were really important.  However, to Brendon, everything is 'really important.

Dallon huffed, blowing his stringy tawny colored hair out of his sapphire eyes and unzipping his light coat as they reached the second set of doors.  "Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that, little one."

"Hey!" Brendon immediately cried in protest, his hand frozen on the stainless steel door handle.  "I am not little, you're just tall!"

"Sorry to break it to you sweetie, but you're an inch shorter than the average male American height," he smiled sarcastically, nudging Brendon aside and pushing the door open, pulling him into the bland beige hallway after him.

Metal lockers lined the bustling hallway and tacky floats advertising clubs and team sports were taped the the chipping walls.  One of the ceiling lights was flickering slightly due to the school's small budget and inability to fix anything remotely broken.  Cheap ass PSA board, everyone rightfully blamed them, even the kids who had parents apart of it.

"Well you're like five inches taller than the average so . . ."  Brendon continued, rolling his dark eyes playfully as he takes several long strides to get ahead of Dallon.  

The student filled hallway felt abnormally busy to Brendon, having not stepped foot in a school for nine or so months.  Stray gossip was in the air, mainly about Brendon as he passed his annoying peers, half of them robots, trying to fit in and be popular, the other half leading the trends.  

He never fit into their stereotypes.  He usually didn't give a shit what people thought about him, but this felt different.  He felt more isolated.  Alone.

Whispers ceased as the two friends walked by in silence, curious eyes following their backs as they made their way down the buzzing corridor.  

Dallon could tell Brendon was extremely uncomfortable and more than a bit anxious too, so he leaned forward slightly, bending so that his familiar mouth was by the brunette's right ear.

"Keep walking, we're going to the office," he murmured, placing a gentle hand on his back to guide him.  Brendon nodded stiffly, the only signal Dallon had that he heard him among hundreds of kids.

The negative thoughts were flooding Brendon's mind and he couldn't seem to get rid of them.  He knew they were bad.  He wanted to push them to the back of his head oh-so-badly, to the filing cabinet where he locked up all the bad memories, but it seems his brain wasn't having any of that today, welcoming the invasive words like an old friend instead of an enemy.

It wasn't until they'd rounded the corner that Dallon yanked the brown eyed boy aside, kneeling down slightly to be eye to eye with him.  An obnoxiously large plotted plant was in front of them, shielding the two from any unwanted eavesdroppers.  His big hand remained on Brendon's shaking shoulder.

"Hey, hey, Brenny, shh, why're you crying?" The comfort instantly left his mouth with out Dallon thinking about it.  The pad of his pointer finger brushed gently across the younger boy's face, clearing some salty tears off of his rosy skin.  

Brendon wasn't even aware of the stupid tears streaming down his blotchy face until Dallon pointed it out, lifting his sleeve up to wipe them away angrily.  "I-I'm fine."  He didn't want to have this conversation.  Not here, not now.  Maybe another day.

Dallon just looked at him, concerned.  He knew Brendon was 17 and all, and could take care of himself, but he had that protective gene in him.  Always had, always will.  Something about Brendon brought it out in him.  "C'mere," his sweater clad arms were held wide open, layered under a thin coat that used to be a little wet from the precipitation, but had long dried since then.  He knew better than to believe Brendon's 'I'm fine,' but didn't want to push it just then.

Brendon complied with Dallon's empty request, letting himself lean into Dallon's arms, his tears soaking the older's shoulder slightly, not that Dallon was complaining.  Onxe again, Dallon was thankful for the green fake plant blocking Brendon and him from view.  He knew how much Brendon would hate for everyone to see him cry.

"Th-they all think I'm stupid Dal,"  Brendon whispered, eyes boring holes in the office window over Dallon's shoulder to distract himself.  He knew he wasn't very smart, but he didn't need other people telling him that as well.  It just made everything hurt more. "M-maybe I am."

Dallon gasped, taking Brendon's face in his hands.  

"You, Brendon Urie, are one of the smartest people I know.  Just because you don't know everything about geometry or sentence patterns doesn't make you stupid.  You are one hundred percet capable of anything you put your mind to, and I mean that.  Don't quit, we both know you can do this. Kids can be dicks sometimes, and I'm sorry for that, but you cannot let it mess with your education. Don't listen to them.  Focus positively on yourself."

"Okay," he drags his dry sleeve under his moist eyes, feeling weak for even crying.  Boys don't cry.

"C'mon," Dallon gave him a small smile, holding onto his hand, "let's go get your schedule."

Brendon just nods, mustering the courage to put a smile on his own face, acting like nothing was wrong.  If he was tough and made the other kids see that they weren't getting to him, they would fuck off.  

And if they didn't?

Well, he'd fuck them up.


End file.
